


The Games People Play

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games People Play

**Author's Note:**

> Gap Filler 308 (Brian's POV)  
> Originally posted on LJ in 2008  
> Disclaimer: QAF and its characters are the property of their owners. No copyright infringement intended

 

     I wondered if I had pushed him too far this time, if I really did blow my last chance with him. Even he had his limits with me, loathe as I am to admit it.

     I knew the game he was playing the moment I was introduced to the new "art intern." He didn’t realize, or maybe he did, that he was dealing with someone who literally wrote the book, _Fuck or Be Fucked._ As usual, the smug little shit was doing everything right, endearing himself to everyone, particularly Cynthia, the traitor. Whose side was she on anyway? That was okay, though. I found it amusing. It would give me an opportunity to find out what he was made of, if he had the balls to see it through.  
  
     When I called him to my office for an "official" talk, it was to learn his game plan. I calmly listened to his smart ass comebacks to my comments and questions, letting him feel as if he had the upper handand had boxed me in. He left thinking smugly he'd won. So we played the game. Always on guard, we circled each other like tigers hunting for prey, preparing for the kill, never knowing who was going to strike first.  
   
     It wasn’t until the Iconic Optics presentation, however, that the proverbial damn broke and the gloves came off. _Orange is the new blue._ Well, fuck me silly! He couldn’t even put the storyboards up without dropping them. Then he has the nerve to “help” by spouting artistic bullshit that delivered my balls with a fucking bow to Iconic on a fucking silver platter!

     I'll admit, I might have over-reacted, but damn, I didn’t need to be blindsided by Justin, of all people. It really was a stupid “straw that broke the camel’s back” moment. Until then, I had been handling the situation with my usual Kinneyesque aplomb, maintaining an air of authority over him so he understood who was the boss and most important, making sure I never let on how his presence was killing me, that all I wanted was to fuck him senseless over my desk.

     Yep, I was doing fine until orange became the new blue. Would I have fired him if he were still my undefined whatever the fuck he was supposed to be? Maybe. I honestly don’t know. What I _did_ know, with the startling clarity of a foggy night, was that all of my feelings since he started at the agency merged into a giant emotional spitball and had targeted him in its sight.

    During our altercation later in the day, I had to be the one to strike the first blow, survival of the fittest and all that shit. I knew I succeeded when I saw his reaction to my comment, “Almost as stupid as falling for his bullshit in the first place.” Until that very moment he was still playing, still trying to “one up” me, still attempting to manipulate the situation, even though I could tell he was shocked that I was firing him. But seeing the hurt and anger in his eyes, a reflection of my own emotions, made me question if perhaps I had twisted the sword too deeply in my attempt at self-preservation in order to hurt him the way he hurt me.

    He finished his impassioned speech with his voice cracking and brushed past me to leave. I knew I had to do something, _anything_ , to keep him from walking out, to stop him from disappearing out of my life. But I didn't know what. I couldn’t totally tear down the walls that had taken a lifetime to build, even though he had already started to dismantle them on that first night, one brick at a time. I could only react by grabbing his arm and belittling him, telling him to “have some balls” when things didn’t go his way, asking him silently not to give up on me, _on us._

    Time stood still as we spoke wordlessly, our eyes conveying the words we couldn’t say, the emotions we couldn’t admit—to be honest, words and emotions _I_ couldn’t say or admit. A flash of understanding flickered across his face before he communicated his acceptance with a blistering kiss that seared my lips.

    I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing too well I had dodged yet another bullet. I couldn't help but speculate how many more chances I had left in my pathetic life before I was knocked out of the match for good, brought down by the final blow—before he left me forever.  
  
 **# # # #**


End file.
